nine2five 2,1 Snake in the Grass
by Marc Vun Kannon
Summary: Season 4 begins where season 3 left off. My version of the Anniversary starts a season focused on fun, fluff, and family. Orion's dead, and he leaves a message for his children, a legacy, and a mission to complete. Even though they aren't spies!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** I have to admit I'm a little afraid of doing this story, and by that I mean the whole series, not this one episode. Season 3, for all its faults, had a strong story underneath it, and my job was basically hosing off all the crap covering the diamonds. Season 4 is almost the opposite, good episodes with no real story to hold the whole thing together. I strongly feel like I should quit while I'm ahead, but S4 has its flaws, and S5 even more so. This season will be considerably less dramatic than the last, with more of a focus on family and fluff. The episodes will be kept mostly intact, but my focus will be on the parts that they don't show.

It's not my normal practice, but I really hope that you will leave a comment and tell me what you think. I can tell your feedback will be crucial to how well and how quickly this story gets finished. (Also, I don't know if you're aware of this, but you can also send tweets with links to the stories you're reading, with the share button at the bottom of the page.) So, with all that said, here begins my version of Chuck's season 4.

* * *

_"Welcome home, Mrs. Bartowski."_

* * *

Chuck woke before Sarah, before the alarm. For a little while he just lay there, enjoying the feeling of Sarah's warmth against his side and her even breathing as she slept, trying to let it lull him back into a doze. Instead he felt her hand move, fingers pressing 1-2-3-4 against his skin under the covers. _Status?_

He pressed 1-2-1-2 against her back. _Green._

She sank back into sleep, trying to recover from her vacation, her long-delayed honeymoon, before she had to get back to work. The Deadly Scorpion League passed into history even as it was created, thanks to them, a terrorist network that made masterful use of public transportation to hide in plain sight. Chuck had sniffed them out and she had taken them down, and Carina and Casey had made the greatest sacrifice of all, dealing with local red tape to turn their captures over to the appropriate authorities. They had to use _some_ name in the reports.

Chuck could not get back to sleep so easily, his body's clock still in the air somewhere between Budapest and home, thanks largely to his lovely wife and a bed that didn't sway on the tracks. With their partners still entangled elsewhere, and their boss not expecting them home for another day or two, they'd gladly put the night to good use.

A little bit. Sarah was perfectly capable of adjusting her body's clock pretty much at will, but he and the Intersect lacked that skill. Have to talk to Ellie about that. When he saw her in…_what time is it, anyway?_

Chuck reached out a hand, feeling around for his cell, kept off for the duration of their trip. Not that they planned it that way, it just sort of happened. Casey and Carina may have been sort of semi-on duty-ish, but he and Sarah were really into their roles as vacationing honeymooners. Anyone they might have wanted to hear from knew that. As for the rest…

The screen lit and he checked the clock. Just like he'd thought, still stupid o'clock in the morning here, even if his body insisted it was time to get up. He put the phone down and settled back to go back to sleep if he could, or feel Sarah snuggling next to him if he couldn't. A win-win if he'd ever heard of one.

His phone started beeping.

Sarah's grip tightened around his chest.

Chuck flashed, utilizing a combination of skills from three separate disciplines to get out her arms, out of his bed, out of the room with his traitor phone pressed against his chest, all without disturbing She who must not under any circumstances be disturbed. Once in the hall he held the phone away from himself to check the message that had come in.

_Go to your computer._

His computer? Who the hell would be contacting him by computer at _this_ hour?

No, really. Who _would _be contacting him by computer at this hour?

Only one answer came to him and he didn't much like it. Sarah would like it even less, and he really doubted Orion had staged this little meeting to let her get her hands on him. Good thing she was asleep right now. He could take the meeting and fill her in later.

* * *

Sarah Lisa Don't-call-me-Walker stalked out of their bedroom, unhappy. "Chuck!" She stomped down the hall (in spite of the bunny slippers currently padding her feet) and cornered him in their dining room/nook/piece of floor, looking boggle-eyed but not especially afraid. That would change. She had a deadly projectile in her hand and wasn't afraid to use it. "A pillow, Chuck?" she yelled, throwing it at his face. "If I'd wanted to wake up holding a pillow I would have married one."

Miracle of miracles, she got him square in the face, his Intersect-powered reflexes failing him. "Sorry," he said, catching his pillow before it could fall to the floor. "I had to act fast, and you wouldn't let go. I knew ninjitsu and acrobatics were in the intersect but the pillow-fighting was a surprise."

"'Act fast', Chuck?" she repeated, confused. "So I wouldn't wake up? Why?" When he didn't answer right away she changed her voice and tactics. "Come on, husband," she teased, sliding herself into his lap, "You should know better than to try to keep a secret from a spy."

"Says the woman whose bridal shower was held in the middle of an FBI sting operation."

"That was Carina's fault, not mine," grumped Sarah. "Stop stalling."

Repeated exposure to Sarah's seductive wiles did not render him more immune, rather the opposite. "I, um, yeah," he said, dropping his gaze to see what his hands were doing, which was no improvement. He looked up again, at her face, her eyes, her beautiful blue eyes that were even better than cleavage for holding his attention. "No, no secrets, not from me. Not a spy, no sir, uh, ma'am." He crossed his heart. "No secrets, no lies."

She frowned at him. "I hope you're not implying that you think I would keep secrets from you, or lie to you."

"Of course not," he blurted out, "Except, you know, national security and all…"

"Being a spy is my job, Chuck." She put her arms around him and snuggled in close. "You're my life now. I have no secrets from you, no lies to tell, and thank you for that."

"Uh, Sarah?" he said in her ear, sounding breathless. "You. Lap. Rationality…slipping away…"

She got off his lap and walked away down the hall. Chuck's wits returned to him but she was faster, now clad in a floor-length fluffy robe that left everything to the imagination. "No secrets, no lies. Feminine wiles are optional. Now spill."

Chuck reached out to the table and picked up his cell phone. "I got a message from Dad last night."

"Tell me you got a hit on his location."

"Um…about six feet underground." He handed her the phone. "I knew you'd want to see it, so I got it on video."

She sat next to him, called up the video app.

"_Hello Chuck. If you're seeing this, that means I wasn't able to stop this message from sending. Which also means, I'm dead."_

She paused the recording. "You think he really is?"

Chuck sighed, fiddling with a salt shaker. "I…don't know. I mean, you've chased him so far underground that he might as well be, but…I would have trouble believing he was dead if enemy agents shot him in front of me." His hand twitched, salt flying everywhere.

She nodded, taking the salt shaker out of his hand. "He did blow himself up in a helicopter right in front of us, and that was fake."

"Yeah, boys who cry wolf have nothing on spies who play dead, but mainly it's just that he's _Orion_, you know? He's too cool to die."

She looked at the screen and saw Stephen Bartowski, a very flawed man, not a dream. Definitely not an icon. "Everyone dies, Chuck."

"Doesn't mean I have to believe it." Suddenly he looked boggle-eyed again. "Or maybe there's an apprentice Orion out there, carrying on the legacy."

"Maybe I should listen to the rest of the message," she said, starting the video again.

"_What do I say about that? Um, I- I'm sorry. And - and - well I hope you and your sister know how much I love you - loved you. Now I need you to do something for me. Something secret. You better get a pen."_

She stopped the video again, shaking her head. "First he tells you it's secret, then he tells you to write it down?" said the spy, amazed. 'He tells you it's secret and the first thing you do is tell me'_, _thought the wife, pleased.

"Well, he wasn't about to trust electronic recorders, too easy to hack, but really he should have had more faith in me and my magic memory." He needed coffee for this next part, and distance, so he got up to get both.

" _I never wanted you to be a spy_."

"Well, that makes three of us," muttered Sarah quite audibly. Chuck had only wanted to be worthy of her, and _she_ was a spy.

"_I knew how dangerous this world is, what it does to the people in it. Boy, do I know that."_

Chuck gave Sarah one of those looks, and she gave him one right back. Apart, they'd almost lost themselves in the spy world. Together they'd saved each other from it.

"_That's why I kept something from you. Something about me -about Orion. I've been a spy for the last twenty years, working for myself. Doing things governments have been afraid to do."_

Facepalm. "Not afraid, you idiot," snarled Sarah, fingers white from squeezing the phone as hard as she wanted to squeeze Orion's neck right now. Trying to avoid chaos. God, the harm that one lone rogue operative could wreak, especially one of Orion's abilities. A twenty-year history of potential international incidents, with no known cause. Beckman would plotz.

"_Maybe being a spy is - is in our blood. And - and maybe I should have... told you all of this long ago."_

"Yeah," thought Sarah, "Because that would have just cleared everything right up, wouldn't it?" She dropped the phone on the table, letting it play as she cradled her head in her arms.

"_But Chuck, your story is only just beginning. It's time you knew the truth about my work, and the people who tried to destroy me. Because if I'm gone, then you're not safe from them anymore. Neither is Ellie. These people they are ruthless, cunning and - Chuck, it's - it's time you learned the truth about your family. 'Cause I did all this for her."_

* * *

"'Her'? Her who?" asked Ellie, pausing the app. They'd broken radio silence to contact her, of course they had. Any 'truth about their family' would affect her too, how could it not? If anyone deserved their loyalty, their trust, she did.

"Who do you think, El?" said Chuck from where he leaned against the wall, anything but casual. "He sure as hell didn't do anything for _us._"

"Chuck…" Ellie looked at him, brown eyes wide, lips pursed, as they always were when she had some overwhelming emotion she wanted to keep contained.

"He's right, Ellie," said Sarah, making breakfast. "Your father left you, when you were barely able to look after your brother alone."

"He left us to protect us."

"From what?" Sarah completely botched the flip, ruining the perfect symmetry of her pancakes. "From enemies that _he_ made, people trying to destroy _him_. Running away may have been for you, but it didn't help you, it just avoided doing any more harm than he'd already done."

"Sarah, I know that you're mad at him for what he tried to do to Chuck, but that doesn't make him a bad man."

Sarah brought her imperfect products to the table. "I didn't say he was a bad man, Ellie, but he's a pretty lousy father."

Ellie picked up her fork out of a sense of duty, but her father wasn't here so she left the phone where it lay. "Is there anything else on that video?"

"Just an address and some other directions, sis, but they're for LA, not here."

Ellie gulped down the piece of pancake in her mouth. "You're going to LA? You just got in."

Chuck sat at the table, taking her hands in his. "_We_ are going to LA, Ellie, I can't do this without you."

"We can't go to LA, Chuck, we've got work to do."

"You're kidding, right?" asked Sarah, pouring another batch. "Orion's spy will? Beckman will fly you there herself."

* * *

"You're absolutely right, Sarah," said Beckman, post-plotz. "Ruse or not, we can't afford to ignore any possible revelations about Orion and his schemes. Chuck and Ellie will go to LA immediately and report their findings."

"But…General…"

"I'm sorry, Agent Bartowski, but I have need of you elsewhere. Disturbing evidence has come to light from your excellent work in Europe. Interrogations of the members of the DSL–" no way she was going to call it the Deadly Scorpion League, especially since she'd been the one to use the name first "–have revealed the growing influence of new players in the wake of the Ring's collapse. Colonel Casey and Agent Miller will brief you in Prague."

"Yes, General."

"Dismissed."

* * *

"Chuck, is that what I think it is?" asked Ellie as they pulled up in front of the address in LA, later that night. A brother and sister on compassionate leave had no trouble getting a westbound flight.

Chuck parked the car, sat and stared. "Yeah, El. It's our old house. I thought I recognized the address."

"You and your magic memory. I haven't thought about this place since we had to sell it."

They got out. "Looks like Dad kept it in the family anyway," said Chuck. "Maybe he did something for us after all." He looked at the house critically, as it blended in perfectly with the neighborhood in spite of being uninhabited. A spy's house. "Remember how surprised the realtor was when we got more than our asking price?"

It got her through Med School, although they ate a lot of beans and rice as well. "You think that was Dad?"

"I think–" He pushed the lockplate under the doorknob to one side, revealing a scanner, and pressed his thumb to it. The door made a noise, and opened easily. "Anything's possible, sis." The rooms they peeked into on their way to the den looked mostly unchanged, with lots of drop cloths everywhere. He flipped the light switch in the proper sequence, and they watched as the floor moved, revealing a secret basement.

"Can this get any weirder?" whispered Ellie.

Chuck gave her a nudge. "Go on, Alice, it's just a rabbit hole. Wait a minute, that makes me the rabbit. I'll go first."

The space at the bottom of the stairs was a warren of shelves and boxes, hardcopy remnants of ancient missions, organized in a fashion that had to make sense only to Orion. Names–Hydra, Cygnus, the Triangulum–that not even the Intersect could recognize. At the far end something made a light, so they went that way.

As they walked along the main aisle, Ellie said, "We've only got three days, Chuck."

"I couldn't even _index_ this place in three days. Let's hope Dad did that for us, otherwise this stuff'll rot before we read half of it."

The light came from inside a table, with some things on it that they couldn't see very well until they got close. Chuck picked up some metal fragments, while Ellie checked the label on a box of papers.

"Chuck!" said Ellie, shifting the box and pointing at the label.

"Ellie!" said Chuck, holding out a stamped metal figure of a boy.

"It's Mom!"

* * *

**A/N2 **Yes, I know, it's really the end of S3, but a lot of S4 won't make much sense in the nine2five universe, so I'll take whatever material I can get. Please review. I respond to them all, by the way, usually behind the scenes. Thanks.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N** I was going to post this last night, but with the Chuck This Blog rewatch of Phase Three I thought no one would see it. I can only hope the rest of the story talks to me as much as this part has.

* * *

"_A pillow, Chuck?" _

"_Boys who cry wolf have nothing on spies who play dead.__"_

"_He left us to protect us."_

"_It's Mom!"_

* * *

Ellie pointed at the little stylized boy figure in Chuck's hand. "Didn't we fix that?"

"We were kids, El, I'm surprised I didn't hot-glue it to my nose." He ran a finger over the little stump of a hand, no longer connected to anything. "I think Dad soldered it after we got done, but it got broken again."

"That's Dad," she said, taking it from him, "Always trying to patch things up."

Chuck noticed the box she'd been holding. "Mary Bartowski. Missing?" He opened the box, scanned the items inside but nothing jumped out at him. A lot of stuff that an agent going into deep cover would leave behind. "All this time we thought she left us…"

"She did leave us, Chuck." Ellie put a gentle hand over his. He'd loved his mother so much. "Perhaps this will tell us why she didn't come back."

He looked around at all the racks and boxes. "All of this…"

Ellie sighed. "Eventually," she said, taking the box firmly, tucking the medallion pieces inside. "Food first, and a room." The livability of the house would have to wait.

"Check in so we can check in?" Beckman would want a sitrep ASAP.

Ellie imagined a big pit where her childhood home used to be. "We have to tell her something."

"I…don't think the truth will go over too well, sis."

"We don't know what the truth is, Chuck. Anything could be in these boxes."

His smile grew more genuine. "That's true, isn't it? Anything. Or nothing."

* * *

"Good morning, sweetie. I hope your yesterday was better than mine." Sarah yawned into the phone.

Chuck winced, sitting in the car outside the diner. Ellie was inside, ordering dinner, but they agreed his conversation with his wife was not for public consumption. "Oh, crap, I woke you up, didn't I? I'm sorry."

An understandable mistake. "Don't be silly, Chuck, it's not like we've ever had a planet between us before."

"It just felt like it sometimes."

"Yeah, it did," she recalled in not-so-fond memory. "But really, we just got home from here, so getting readjusted was a snap. What's up? You have the ticker going?"

Chuck pushed a button on the little box on the dash, and the ticker started, pulsing randomly. Spies could use lasers to read vibrations from window glass, but the ticker threw off the vibrations. He told her every detail. No secrets, no lies. "I can only imagine how Beckman will take it."

A short, unhappy laugh barked into his ear from a world away. "So can I, and believe me, 'take' is a well-chosen word."

"I know, but don't worry, I have a plan."

"Oo, I like your plans," she said, then put on her Mrs. Charles voice. "And what do y'all want me to do, Charlie baby?"

Chuck smiled. She knew him so well.

* * *

Ellie called while on line. "I need your help, Aunt Diane."

Beckman was prepared to offer anything up to and including a general mobilization. "In what way, Ellie? Where are you?"

"On line at a diner. The house is a mess, completely unlivable. Dad really let it go these last years. His 'mission' all this time has been to find our mother." Three people within earshot winced at this additional frisson of torture to what was obviously a trying time, but one guy just wished she'd shut the hell up and keep the melodrama to herself. "Now that he's gone I'm afraid Chuck will–"

"Resign his position, abandon his country, and go off on some hare-brained scheme to find her himself?"

"You know my brother so well." The three people still listening nodded sympathetically. Typical loser brother, always having to prove himself. The guy in front started shouting his order at the clerk, to drown out the soap opera.

"Ellie, do the words 'stay in the car, Chuck' mean anything to you?"

"No."

"They didn't to him either. Don't worry, I'll come up with something in time for your formal check-in. We'll keep him in line."

"Actually, Aunt Diane, I had an idea already." Her audience smiled in approval. This Chuck guy didn't deserve such a good sister.

"I'm going to guess it's not one you can describe in detail, standing in the middle of a Denny's, or wherever you are." No one heard Beckman's sigh except Ellie. "Well, if it keeps him happy and out of harm's way I guess I can support it, and you."

"Thanks, Aunt Diane. I have to go, I'm at the counter now." She wasn't, but her listeners were more than willing to forgive a little white lie. "We'll speak to you soon."

* * *

The motel room had little more than two beds and a desk, but they didn't need more than that. Chuck set up the ticker by the window, while Ellie made the call.

"A secret basement?"

"Yes, General," answered Chuck. "Seems to have been mainly used for storage, though. The equipment we saw was pretty ancient. A lot of boxes on shelves. None of the labels we saw rang any bells, though."

"Nonetheless we should have them brought in for analysis…"

"Already taken care of, General." Assuming Sarah had spoken to Hannah like she said she would, and Chuck made that assumption. "Pending your approval, we've made arrangements with the Castle team to send a crew out and digitize the papers." The ones they were given, anyway.

"I appreciate your initiative, Mr. Bartowski, but the material in those boxes will almost certainly be above their pay grade–"

"But not mine, General," said Ellie. "I'll make sure they only see what they should see."

"You're staying, Ellie? I was hoping we could get together this weekend."

"Yes. As head researcher of the Project I believe it's my top priority to catalog these notes. Manoosh can handle the routine encoding tasks for the uploads, and he's been tinkering on a little side project he thinks I don't know about, for which my brother's mission will be a perfect proving ground."

"My mission?" said Chuck.

"Proving ground?" asked Beckman.

"Correct. We all know that only a bunker at the bottom of the sea could keep Chuck from looking for our mother." Beckman's grunt was perfectly timed with Chuck's shrug. "My idea is to use that to test Manoosh's enhancements to the sunglasses. Wherever Chuck goes he can stop in at a CIA substation or embassy, put on the glasses, get an upload, make his reports, and then do a download again. He looks for Mom, you get your data, and Manoosh gets his field trials. Everybody wins."

"I'm afraid not, Ellie. I can't agree with your plan."

"But…why not?"

"Because Mary Bartowski was a spy. You'll know it as soon as you read your father's notes so I may as well tell you now. You'll understand I can't let Chuck just wander the world looking for her, with no more back-up than Morgan Grimes." Because of course Chuck would ask, and Morgan would be there for him.

"Then call Sarah back, let them look together."

"I can't. She's the only one that gives the team even a shred of legitimacy."

"What about Casey?"

Beckman considered this. At least that's what they hoped she was doing in the time it took her to reply. "I'll see what I can do."

* * *

Chuck stood in the airport concourse, waiting for Casey to come out. This was going to become a home away from home, he supposed, but hopefully not too long. Ellie, too, since she wouldn't want to be away from Devon any longer than she had to.

The stream of debarking passengers thinned to a trickle, and still no Casey. _I couldn't have missed him._

"Hey, Chuckles," said a female voice, right into his ear.

"Ah!" Chuck shouted, jumping. The Intersect supplied a number of attack patterns but he suppressed them, and simply turned. "Carina! Where'd you come from?"

She laughed at his surprise. "The same plane you were just watching, you even looked right at me but didn't notice me." She tugged him away from the crowds. "That's no good, Mr. Not-a-spy. This is why Beckman wants me to have your back."

He checked six for listeners, but whispered anyway. "_Casey_ is supposed to have my back."

She checked three, nine, and twelve. "Casey is certifiably insane, I'll have you know. The trail led into Russia, and he actually wants to go there."

"Do you even know where I'm going?"

"Do I care? As long as it's not Russia. They have two seasons there, winter and almost-winter, and I left all my furs in storage." She shuddered. "Come on, the sooner we collect my luggage and get to your place the sooner you can brief me."

"Why my place?"

"Duh! My place is for debriefings only, even if you _are_ a boxers man."

* * *

"So your father's a geek and your mother's a spy. Why does that arrangement sound so familiar?" said Carina as she read her fashion magazine on the other side of the lounge.

Chuck didn't look up from his crossword puzzle, or bother correcting her choice of word. "Gosh, you're funny, Carina."

"I'm glad you think so, Chuck, we've got a long trip ahead of us. Your father's itinerary looks like a ping-pong ball in a hurricane. Can't we just cut to the chase?"

"Oh yeah, did I mention Beckman wants us to follow his trail, verify his findings, and see what wreckage he left behind?"

"Wait. She wants me to _defuse_ international incidents?"

He snorted. "That's what _I_ said…" His pocket buzzed.

Carina watched as he pulled the phone from his pocket and checked the screen. Watched as he jerked in his chair, clutched the phone to his chest and turned bright red as she looked around nervously. "What's up, Chuckles?"

"Nothing," he said shrilly into his watch. "Just a…message from Sarah."

Carina smirked at a model wearing something she'd already stopped being seen in. "A message, Chuck? Are you sure it wasn't a photo of a certain tousle-haired blonde, eyes closed in restful slumber, with an expression composed of equal parts desire, pleasure, and satisfaction on her face?"

He sank lower in his chair and pulled the phone away to check the screen.

She caught the moment and sent it off in a quick email. "I take it from the smile on your face that I'm one hundred percent right as usual? I was wondering if she'd have the nerve to send it like I suggested, she's surprisingly shy in some ways."

He flashed a glare in her direction as he shoved the phone in his pocket.

"I took it, you know." She watched him squirm, unable to escape her voice in his ear. "She didn't used to make so much noise. I wanted to get video but dream-Chuck is a pretty fast worker."

"Stop it," he growled.

"That's exactly what she said. I took the picture and it woke her up. She made me email the photo to her and then she deleted it from my phone, the spoilsport." She sighed. "Ah well, at least she punished me for my transgression."

Chuck sat bolt upright in his chair. "She what? How?"

"As only Sarah Bartowski can," she murmured. Chuck practically melted in his chair. "Well, there's my boarding call. Have fun in coach, Chuck, see you on the ground."

**First stop: Yucatan**

"What do you mean? Of course I remember those riots."

"Yes, well, so do they. Whatever you do, don't use the name Bartowski."

**Third stop: Greenland**

"Ellie, what are we doing in Greenland?"

"I don't know, Chuck. What _are_ you doing in Greenland?" She sounded more than a little distracted.

"Freezing. Why is this place on Dad's list?"

"It's not." The sound of rustling papers. "Oh wait, it is. Sorry, I thought I'd scratched that out. Your next stop was supposed to be Portugal. My bad."

**Fifth (?) stop: Tierra del Fuego**

"All right, what's here?"

"Um…fuego?"

**Another stop: India**

"Watch your step, there's cows everywhere."

**Another**

"Geez, it's cold!"

**Another**

"God it's hot."

**Another**

"Can it get any more humid?"

**Somewhere, sometime**

"Wait, I can swear that's Russia off to the left. Are you sure we can't stop?"

**Washington DC**

The grate fell off the vent and a long female body slid out and fell to its, that is, her knees, but she went no further. "Yuck. No way I'm kissing that floor."

Chuck landed lightly behind her. "You already kissed the gangway _and_ the airport parking lot. I think DC knows you're glad to be here."

She pushed away from the floor with vigor. "Yes, well, I just discovered _how_ glad, and it's really not that much." She looked around at the grimy office and its furnishings. "This is a safe house?"

"It was," said Chuck, his attention on the obvious safe set into the wall. "You have that combination?"

Behind another vent, a hidden camera caught most of the scene and relayed the images to a screen a great distance away. A woman watched with no expression, until she saw the long-haired woman shimmy her dress into alignment behind the man's back, displaying a complete lack of both modesty and underwear.

When shimmy-girl pulled the slip of paper out of her top and pressed it into his outstretched hand, the woman pursed her lips. As the man entered the code shimmy-girl blatantly checked him out from behind, secure in the belief that she was not being observed. The woman heard machinery grinding and went to find the source, before she realized it was herself, growling like some kind of animal.

When he sat, dejected by the open and empty safe, shimmy-girl sat by him, hugged him, her hands caressing and stroking. The woman snapped the monitor off. "Oh, Chuck."

* * *

**A/N2** So here we are caught up to part 1, at the end of part 2. Please tell me what you think, or use the share button down below to tell other people.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N **The title of the story, by the way, is actually nine2five 2.1, not 21, but the title don't allow periods. So I'm going with the European system and using a comma instead.

It's amazing how many errors I had to correct, just to make sense of what was going on. Morgan does less, Greta does more, and Chuck doesn't commit treason. At least, not yet.

* * *

"_Didn't we fix that?"_

"_You know my brother so well." _

"_Casey is certifiably insane, I'll have you know.__"_

"_Oh, Chuck."_

* * *

"What do I do now?" said Chuck. "This was our last hope."

Carina left off with the comforting gestures. They didn't seem to be working on him but she was getting pretty worked up herself. Be good to get back to her toyboy. "We stick to protocol, Chuck. You check the files, I'll check the trash." Hard to get excited over trash, or stay that way.

She kept her head down as the doors started slamming.

"Nothing! There's nothing here!"

She grabbed a flyer and held it up. Chuck liked Chinese, maybe he'd find this more comforting than her. "It's not a total loss, Chuck. We found a new Chinese place."

He looked over, glanced at the flyer, but he didn't recognize the emblem. "I'll have to ask Morgan," he said, unwilling to be cheered up so easily. "Let's get back, we need to contact Ellie and Beckman."

* * *

With the tragic death of Charles Carmichael, an obscure office became available. With the sudden miraculous recovery of analyst Bartowski, an office was needed for his use. Serendipity.

Not so serendipitous was the brunette bombshell walking down the hallway as he opened his office door. While the place wasn't a state secret anymore, the less anyone noticed his comings and goings, the better. He pretended to fumble for his keys, keeping his face turned away, and slightly hunched over to hide his true height.

"Mr. Bartowski?" she asked, in a rough, throaty voice.

Crap. Suddenly he found his keys. "Yes, Miss…?"

She stopped, very close. Chuck tried to back away but the door didn't move, stupid door."You can call me Greta, Mr. Bartowski. I've been assigned to your wife's team. They told me I should see you to get brought up to speed."

Who were 'they'? "That's…very nice, Miss-Greta, but I just got back from a little fact-finding tour of my own, so as you can imagine, I need some time to bring myself up to speed." The problem wasn't getting the key in the lock, not for the Intersect, the problem was making it look like he was having trouble.

She moved closer, staring, unblinking. No more problem.

"That's all right, Mr. Bartowski. Perhaps over dinner tonight?"

"D-dinner?"

She smiled at him. "I'm shipping out for Thailand in the morning. I _really_ need this briefing, as soon as you can give it to me."

"You don't have an older sister named Carina, do you?" This little girl had a bit of growing to do, to step into those shoes. Chuck smiled at her, not the one Sarah owned, but another one. "Sure, a little time with someone would be good. It gets kind of lonely when she's out on these long assignments, you know?"

"I sure do," said Greta. She touched his arm. "Thank you, Mr. Bartowski."

"Please, call me Chuck."

* * *

The lights were on in the Manoosh-cave, so someone had to be there other than him. Chuck stepped into the office Ellie now shared, to find his wife standing there. The door hit him in the back as he just stood there, but even so he wasn't sure he wasn't dreaming. "You're here?"

She wrapped herself around him and proved it with a kiss. "We just got in, and Beckman already wants us to go out again. This mission just won't _end_! I need to see you more than once a month."

He ran his hands over her back, inhaled the scent of her hair, savoring every shred of the experience of her that he could get. "Me too. I have your picture but it's not the same."

She didn't ask about his mother. She didn't have to. "My picture?"

Reluctantly, he took a hand away from her body and pulled out his phone. There on the screen was her smiling, sleeping face.

She got out her phone. On the screen was a shot of him, sitting in an airport waiting room, staring at his own phone with a goofy grin on his face.

"Yeah," he said, turning red. _Thanks, Carina. _"Thanks for sending her, by the way."

"Not my idea, but there's only one thing harder than getting Carina into Russia."

"What?"

"Getting Casey out of it. You won't believe how disappointed he was when our mission suddenly diverted us to Hong Kong."

"What's in Hong Kong?"

Casey stalked out of the back room, pretty sure his partner was done playing patty-cake. "A big black hole, six kilometers across." He grabbed the back of Chuck's shirt, pulling him out of Sarah's arms and over to a table, forcing him to look into an open case. "Flash," he ordered, as if to a trained dog.

"Ah!" Chuck groaned, and Casey pulled him upright again, holding him steady as he wobbled. "Portable EMP generator, manufactured by Volkoff Industries in Venezuela, probably at their Corta Verona facility." He shuddered, and Casey let go. "Who's Volkoff?"

Sarah moved in, started adjusting his tie. "He's the next mission Beckman wants us to go out on."

"Russian arms dealer, billionaire," said Casey, closing the case behind him. "Recluse. The power behind the DSL, and with that one flash you just made it possible for us to bring him down."

"Um, you're welcome," said Chuck to Casey's back as he left the room again.

"He missed you too."

"I can see that." He could see nothing but her. "You know the broom closets down here have locks on them."

She trembled. "Don't tempt me." She pushed away. "I have to go report to the General, before we head to Venezuela. Intel like this can't wait."

"Yeah. You go do your thing. I'll read your reports, let you know if I flash on anything." He fled the room before she did.

* * *

Fortunately Greta came to get him a little after six, otherwise Sarah would have had to punish him at some point in the near future for not taking proper care of her husband. "Mr. Bartowski," she said, tapping lightly on his door. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't find any places without open tables tonight. We can go to my place, if you want. I can cook, and it would be more private."

No way was Chuck going to make a woman cook for him on her last night home. "You deserve better than that," he said. "I have a friend, my best bud, he's a manager at a restaurant near here. Let me just give him a call…" He reached for his phone, not noticing the look of disappointment that flashed across her face.

"Sure thing, Mister…Chuck. It's good to have friends."

Morgan, of course, came through for him, getting them a good, reasonably private table at his place. Chuck noted the placement of the security cameras and pulled out a chair for her that had her sitting with her back to them.

None of which precautions did anything to prevent the man with the microphone from capturing every word he said. Fortunately he didn't say much, there just wasn't a lot on this guy Volkoff in the Intersect and he hadn't had much time to do more mundane forms of research. To compensate for his lack of knowledge he tried to do his best to set the poor girl's mind at ease about the team she was joining. His wife was a bit of a legend in the Agency, so he tried to present her more human side.

* * *

The woman was working when her computer buzzed at her. She'd put a flag on their surveillance systems, and the target had appeared in one, and the system sent her an alert. She put her work to one side and opened up a window with the live feed.

The man was the same man as last night, but the woman was different. Shorter, stockier, short black hair. The man's face was plainly visible, but she doubted any lip reader ever born could understand what he was saying. He appeared to be talking a mile a minute, his face very mobile and animated. Whatever he was talking about really excited him, and judging from the way the girl kept touching him, her too.

"Oh, Chuck." The woman closed the window. Let the system record their interlude, she'd review the video…some other time.

* * *

Morgan Grimes walked through his restaurant, making sure everyone was happy, greeting the regulars like the friends they were. When he reached the table of his oldest friend, sitting with some hottie, his voice got somewhat cooler. "Hey, Chuck, how are you this evening?"

"Morgan! This is Greta. Greta, this is Morgan, the friend who got us this table."

Greta mustered a smile and they exchanged greetings but Morgan clearly had other things on his mind. "Chuck, can I talk to you a second?"

If this had been a date Chuck would have been flustered, but since Greta was simply an associate, he took the interruption in good stride. "Sure thing, buddy." To Greta he said, "Don't wait for me. I told you, that stuff's best when it's hot. I'll be right back."

Morgan led Chuck to a quiet spot by the bathrooms. "Alright, Chuck, what the hell's going on? You're gone for months at a time, I had to find new teams to join on three of my favorite games 'cause you haven't logged on for, like, _ever_, and now here you are with some babe!"

"What, Greta? She's on the team." Really, he probably shouldn't have said that, but this was Morgan. "I'm sorry about the rest, but…some information came to light about my mother, but it's beyond classified. We've been looking for her."

"You and Carina?"

"How'd you know?"

"She came by the house this morning, barely polite, mentioned something about you needing cheering up, and threw this flyer for some Chinese place in my face!"

Chuck winced. "Sorry about that. She's in a bit of a dry spell, I think she's experimenting with faithfulness, and we were gone a month."

Morgan shook his head. "I hope she's still with that cop. She might break anybody else." He slapped Chuck on the arm, much happier. "I'm glad to see you, buddy, and I hope you're alright. We need to get together sometime, but not that Chinese place. I didn't even recognize half of the dishes on the menu. Have you ever heard of Shimira Chicken,' cause I haven't."

Chuck flashed.

Morgan knew about the Intersect, but had never seen a flash in person. "Hey, Chuck, are you okay? You having a seizure? You want I should call Ellie?" He pulled out his phone.

"No, no!" said Chuck, grabbing his arm. "It was just one of those things I'm not allowed to talk about, remember?"

"Oh, is that what that was? I thought you'd bitten a hot pepper, or something, which was impossible, 'cause you didn't order any–"

"Morgan!"

The bearded man shut up and looked attentive.

"I need that menu. Where is it?"

Morgan started patting his pockets. "No, wait, it's in my case!" He pointed to his office.

Chuck sagged in relief. "Great. Go get it, and meet me at the table."

Morgan turned and ran, making his subordinates wonder if the tall guy was a food inspector, or worse, the owner's relative.

Chuck went back to his table. Greta smiled when she saw him, but that didn't last long. "I'm sorry, I have to go." Chuck got out his wallet as Morgan came back, puffing slightly. Greta slumped, disappointed. No one noticed.

Morgan handed him the folded up paper and some containers. "Put that away, it's on me." He swept the food into the boxes as Chuck carefully put the menu away without looking at it. The last thing he needed was to flash in the middle of the main room.

Morgan escorted Chuck to the front door, holding his food as he put on his coat. After Chuck left, Morgan turned to check up on Miss Hottie, only to find a man old enough to be her grandfather had already moved into Chuck's place, and she wasn't blowing him off. "That didn't take long."

* * *

"Well, 'Greta', what did you learn?" said the older man, swirling his martini. "You were my star pupil, you know."

The implication that she no longer was stung. "What was I supposed to learn? The only thing I didn't do was sit in his lap, but he wouldn't stop talking about Agent Walker. I never had a chance." She stabbed a fork into her entrée and started slicing.

He got out his notepad and made an entry. "Excellent."

"What do you mean, 'excellent'? I blew it."

Roan Montgomery put his pad away and finished his drink. "Sometimes that happens, my dear, even to star pupils," he said, standing. "Don't get up, it would be a shame to waste such a meal. I'll see you at the debrief." He ambled to the doorway, deep in thought. _Excellent work, Charles. _He smiled. _Let's see how long you last._

* * *

When Chuck pounded on the door, a man answered. "I need to see Carina."

"Wait right here," said Officer Davis, getting his keys. "I'll go get her."

"No need," said Carina, coming into the room in an oversized shirt and nothing else. "What do you want, Chuck? You're interrupting our seventh-inning stretch."

"The menu!" said Chuck, brandishing the paper. "The menu is the clue."

Carina dropped her head into her hands. She raised it again. "Fine." She turned to Davis. "Save my place." Back to the bedroom for her clothes.

"Carina," said Davis, following. "You really don't have to–"

"I know I don't _have to_. If I did, I wouldn't. I'm doing it because I want to."She closed the door.

That's when Chuck noticed that Davis was mostly undressed, and armed. "Sorry.'

"Don't be," said Davis, putting the gun down. "I knew the risks. Can I get you a beer?"

A half-naked man was offering him one of Carina's beers, in her apartment. "Uh…no, thanks."

"Suit yourself." He went to get one for himself.

Carina came out, ready to go. "Come on, Chuck, let's get this show on the road. The sooner we go, the sooner I can get on my back."

Davis sprayed beer. "Carina!"

She was gathering her hair. "What?"

Both men shook their heads, but there was nothing to say.

"You mind if we take your car?" said Chuck, in the elevator. "I want to look at this menu."

"Sure," she said. "It's got a back seat you can lie down in. You know, if you need to."

Of course it did. "You wouldn't happen to have a younger sister named Greta, would you?"

"Greta?" Carina smiled. "Oh yeah, it _is_ that time of year, isn't it?" she said as the elevator dinged and the doors opened.

"Huh?" asked Chuck, risking a glance at the symbol on the front page. "What?"

She didn't look back. "Nothing."

* * *

"Anything jump out at you?"

"Yeah," said Chuck, rubbing his eyes. "Too many. This thing is a shopping list for classified weapon systems."

"Why would your mother have that? Is it what she was working on?"

Chuck pulled out his phone, started dialing. "You'll know when I know."

"Chuck, don't–!"

"Who is this?" demanded a distorted voice from the speaker. "Identify."

"This is Mr. Charles," said Chuck with his Southern accent. "I speak for the Ring."

"The Ring was eliminated."

"I see I'm gonna have to rethink our relationship, if you're gonna believe such an obvious piece of malarkey as that. Goodbye."

"Wait, Mr. Charles, do not hang up. Clearly we have been misinformed. The person responsible will be shot before sunrise."

Oh, God. "Shot?" He didn't just get someone killed, did he?

"Sorry, I mean 'fired'. Please excuse my poor English."

"That's all right, friend, nothing to kill over. It's true we have suffered a few setbacks, lost a few properties, but our pockets are deep and we need to resupply. What say you?"

"I say you will come to Moscow immediately."

_Moscow?_ That wasn't just distortion, that was a Russian accent. Chuck looked at Carina. "Immediately? Why's that?"

"Mr. Volkoff wants to deal with you," said the voice. "Personally."

* * *

**A/N2** This story is talking to me more than I expected. Let's hope that continues.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N** Tip: The nine2five series is a series of separate stories. Each episode will be 4 chapters, and then it will end, so following the story is of limited usefulness. If you want to know when the next chapter comes out (and I hope you do), I would recommend you follow me as the author.

* * *

"_This was our last hope."_

"_Who's Volkoff?"_

"_I need that menu.__"_

"_Mr. Volkoff wants to deal with you."_

* * *

"I can't believe I'm doing this," said Carina to no one.

"You stole that diamond and left your best friend under fire," said Chuck, typing away at his laptop.

She shrugged. _Sarah could handle it. She can handle anything._

"You married an arms dealer to get access to his vault," he continued.

_Not like I'm ever going to get married for real._

"But a simple midnight flight to Moscow makes you squeamish?"

"It's not the flight that bothers me," she replied. "It's the company. You shouldn't be here."

"I had to be here. It was my phone and my voice. If we're going to learn anything about my mother's connection to Volkoff Industries it has to be me asking the questions."

"I heard you the first time. Why do you think I let you come along?"

"Apparently for the conversation. I'm trying to work here." He tapped some more. "Not to mention that it's _my_ mission," he muttered under his breath.

"On what?" she asked, ignoring the last comment. If she got lucky, his answer just might put her to sleep for the rest of the flight.

"This is Russia, not the Ring. I can't count on their computer equipment being all that modern, so my worms and decrypters have to be much more versatile." He got out his phone and plugged in the cable.

"We're almost on the ground. Did Sarah call back?"

"How should I know?"

_By being you_. "You can't work your magic on the plane's electronics and see if she replied? She has to be on the ground by now."

"Got better things to do with my phone right now, Red." He started uploading the code.

* * *

Sarah was on the ground, and cold.

So was Casey, but he was a bigger man, with a lot more clothing on. Given her position, sitting on a crappy chair, her wrists tied to the arms, she figured that Casey was probably in the same situation. Given that the only warm place on her body was her back, she figured he was sitting behind her, a standard technique to prevent them reassuring each other.

There, to her right, was a table, with their stuff on it, and an armed guard beyond that, muttering into his radio now that they'd moved. Somebody would be coming soon. No knives, no gun, no phone. She didn't know how they were going to get out of this one.

Something shifted at her back, Casey testing his bonds. "Don't know how we're gonna get out of this one," muttered Casey. "Cold and broken-down, has to be Russia. No one's gonna look for us here."

The door opened.

* * *

The limo ride was smooth and comfortable. The endless tapping was driving her crazy. That, and the uncertainty. "Any messages?" she asked, when he got out his phone again.

Chuck tapped the screen. "No messages, voice, text, or otherwise."

"That's not right," said Carina with some concern in her voice. "There should have been enough time between her landing and our takeoff to get in touch. I really don't want to step on her toes."

The limo pulled up outside and the doorman was heading for them. "It's my mission," said Chuck. "I'll take the heat. But here, if it'll make you happy…" He started typing rapidly.

When men started doing things to make her happy that she hadn't specifically told them to do, it usually didn't make her happy. "What are you doing?"

"Sending a text."

* * *

Sarah's phone chimed, only moments after Volkoff's man had delivered his threat and left them to stew, a classic interrogation technique. He'd focused more on Casey than her, even though she'd been the one to knock him out in Hong Kong. Next time she'd probably be the target, and he'd deliver more than mere threats. Any opportunity to escape had to be seized. She turned her head toward the table, slipping off her shoes.

The guard went to check, popping open apps at random. He found several photos, each of Sarah, each steamier than the last, a collection of unsent mail for her husband. He strolled around in front of her, leering back and forth from the siren on screen to the live agent in her chair. Then he stumbled upon something else, the message that had actually caused the chime.

_VI/lap. Me + C 2 rusMsia. _

Sarah watched the man's face screw up in confused concentration, his attention momentarily arrested, his eyes not on her. She kicked him and he fell, dropping the phone on the floor.

Casey looked over his shoulder at the lump. "Good job, Bartowski. Can you get the phone, get some backup?"

She could get to it but not pick it up, not with hose covering her feet. She'd have to type with her toes. Not what she usually did with her feet but an agent is nothing if not adaptable.

* * *

Carina looked away from the locked door of the server room they'd fetched up in. Orion's codes were still good, but other people could know them, and she hated surprises. Like Chuck saying, 'Let's just run, really fast.' Didn't he know how annoying it was to not be let in on the plan? "Chuck, your phone is ringing."

The servers weren't modern. He didn't look up. "Kind of busy here, Carina. It's your message anyway."

Carina took that as some kind of permission and went to Chuck's coat. The only thing in the inside pocket was the phone (rats!), but there was more than enough on the phone itself to make her inner gossip girl happy for a year. _Oh my, Sarah!_ _I have–I have–Goddammit!_ She finally had a good piece of one-upmanship come her way and she couldn't remember the line! 'Her grasshopper was ready to fly', or something like that, but grasshoppers don't fly, do they?

* * *

"Enough with the toes." Marco picked her lifeline up and looked at the screen, checking her messages sent and received. He liked pretty girls as much as the next man but pretty girls sending coded messages in his boss' factory he didn't like so much. He pulled his gun, a big semiautomatic that looked small in his hands, and pointed it at her. "I would love to put bullets in both your heads."

Marco wasn't pointing a weapon at him, so he had to be pointing it at Sarah. "Don't jabber, just do it," said Casey, drawing the big Russian's attention to himself.

Marco obliged him, stepping forward into his field of view and taking aim, smiling. Then he lowered his weapon, still smiling. "The problem is you aren't the agents I'm looking for."

"We can go about our business," thought Sarah, real hard. Marco kept talking. No bedbug mind powers for _her_. Then she focused on what he was actually saying. _CIA agents? Closer than anyone?_ What were _they_, chopped liver?

"They're ghosts," said the Russian, pulling some photos from an envelope. "We only catch them at their embassies, brazenly entering like normal people, the last place anyone would look for a real spy." Sarah began to get a bad feeling. "They discovered our Greenland operation, forcing us to evacuate, and I didn't even know we _had_ a Greenland operation! Who are these master spies?" He flipped the photo over, watching their faces for any betraying reaction.

Sarah and Casey stared at the picture with complete bewilderment. 'What has Carina done with her hair?' thought Sarah. 'Sunglasses?' thought Casey, 'In Finland?'

* * *

She almost didn't notice the actual message. It made her eyes cross, and not in a good way. _Stood/VI/lap. SOS Me + C mosRcow VI SB4_.

"Um, Chuck, you got a minute?"

Chuck stood back and watched the monitor as the progress bar crawled across it. "Yeah. My program will decrypt my mother's file but it'll take a while."

"Good. I think this message is for you…"

* * *

"Sorry," said Sarah.

"Can't help you," added Casey.

Marco's radio crackled. "Boss, the Americans are in the building!" He smirked at his prisoners. "Well, it seems they are here to help you. Their first mistake. I will make it their last."

* * *

"Carina, this way!" Chuck ran for the stairwell, Carina hard on his heels. Down below they found a sea of pistols pointed at them, and backed away. They turned, to find a similar array clustered behind them. "Go ahead, Chuck," murmured Carina, gesturing at the crowd.

"What?" Chuck's voice went up a notch. "What do you mean, 'go ahead'? Aren't you the agent here?"

"Oh, suddenly it's _my_ mission now?" Carina lowered her hands, ignoring their captors to snarl at her partner. "After you drag me along with your whole 'don't worry, I have a plan' routine?" She flung her hands into the air. "I can't believe I let you talk me into this a second time."

Chuck gestured at the sea of scowls around them. "What, did you think they were just gonna let us waltz in and out like the wind?"

"Yes!" said Carina, nodding spasmodically. "I thought that was your whole damn plan!"

* * *

Marco let the whole argument play out. "Wow," he said, during an intermission. "I don't even need this radio." He held it out to Sarah. "Anything you want to say to your friends? I'll completely understand if you say no."

Sarah raised her voice. "Chuck, what are you doing here? You're supposed to be safe in DC."

"You're supposed to be in Venezuela," said the radio in Chuck's angry voice. "Looks like we were both wrong."

"Chuck, get out!" she yelled desperately. "Don't try to save us."

Marco pulled his hand back. "They couldn't anyway." Ignoring her pleas, he held the radio to his mouth and ordered his men to "Kill them."

The clatter of gunfire and screams of pain brought silence to the room.

Marco watched his prisoners' faces change, especially hers, and knew he had to act fast. If they ever got free he and all of his were dead men, even though they had both the numbers and the weapons. His mouth was saying something but he couldn't hear his own words, lost in the blue seas of rage that were her eyes. He clung to her partner's threat like a lifeline. "Somebody shoot this guy."

* * *

"You lied," said Carina.

"I did not," said Chuck, cut to the quick by her words. "I'll have you know I'm constitutionally incapable of lying. Sarah loves that about me."

"You said the fifty thousand on the right were _mine_!"

"They were!" Chuck raised his hand, three fingers up. "I just did a quick count and saw fifty thousand and one, and the one was about to cut you in half with a well-placed burst of automatic fire."

She blew a hair from in front of her face. "Okay, I forgive you."

"Thanks," he said, picking up a radio. "Hello?"

* * *

"Who is this?" It didn't sound like any of his men. It sounded like the guy from before, but that was imposs–

"You clearly have no idea who I am," came the man's calm voice. Marco could imagine the sneering smile that had to be spreading over the big man's face, even as he was tied to a chair and staring down a barrel. He didn't have to imagine the look spreading over this Sarah's face, not a better one from his point of view, just…different.

"If I were you I'd start running," said the big guy.

* * *

"Did I sound scary?" asked Chuck, his finger carefully off the transmit button.

"'What _I_ just did to your men'?" said Carina. "What am I, your cheering section?"

Chuck threw the radio away. "I meant to say 'we', it just came out 'I'. Come on."

* * *

Marco ran. To the base of the stairs, his crew in tow. He'd have to come through here to get to this level, and they'd be ready.

"I'm waiting, mystery man." He didn't like to wait.

* * *

Chuck didn't land silently, like a cat. Not in those shoes. But he did land on top of Marco's goon, so the silent part didn't matter so much.

Carina landed like a cat, silent and deadly, but since everyone was already talking about missions and mothers, no one noticed. _Typical._ "Hey John," she said, giving him the finger. "How about I _un_tie you this time?"

"Sounds good," he said, glad to see she had her FRODO with her, as usual. "I've got me some Russians to kill."

* * *

The chairs were empty, the ropes cut, the gear gone. Nonetheless, Marco smiled. He went to a secure terminal, entered his code, and initiated a command sequence. The entire building was a trap, totally automated, with its security system activated. It would gun down anything that didn't have a special ID tag, like he and his men did. He had only one thing left to do. Walk slowly to the server room, the only unarmed room, listening for screams and gunfire along the way.

* * *

"We're sitting ducks in here," said Casey.

Sarah started slamming open doors, looking for any advantage the room could give them. "Look!" She pulled a familiar case from a storage closet.

"Sarah, don't!" yelled Chuck as he turned from his monitor.

"Chuck, they're on their way," she pointed out, holding the EMP device in her hand. "What good will that file do any of us if we're dead?"

Chuck nodded. "Nothing," he agreed. "But setting off an EMP device in the middle of the capital city of a nuclear nation isn't the answer." Unless it was to one of Volkoff's questions. Chuck turned back to his laptop. "Sorry, Mom," he said, cancelling the upload with minutes to go, minutes they didn't have. "That guy just told the Piranha that he and his friends were in an automated building."

An automated building with an automated suicide switch. It didn't suicide at his first hack but at his last. The lights went out as the building powered down, but they could see pretty well when the servers caught fire.

"Time to go," said Casey, leading the way with Comrade Carina on one side and Comrade AK-47 on the other.

Sarah was at his back, pulling Chuck away from everything he might ever know about his mother, more interested in protecting his future than his past. Chuck had made the mistake of looking at the fire, and was blind in the dark. Casey had to provide lots of muzzle-flashes to let him see his way, but the big guy didn't seem to mind that a bit.

"Where's the getaway car?" said Sarah when they made it outside, freezing already.

"There!" Chuck pointed.

She watched as a broken-down bus pulled up outside. "A bus?"

"No." The bus pulled away, revealing the limo waiting just where they'd told him to wait. Chuck rubbed his hands together, not in triumph but because he was cold. "I had to pay him a lot to drive us here, but I promised him double to drive us away."

"Taxpayer money, Bartowski," said Casey, trying to find a place to hide his weapon and not doing a good job of it.

Chuck took off his coat and threw it around Sarah's shoulders. "Cheaper than training your replacement, Colonel."

Casey's you-got-me-there grunt was barely audible.

* * *

"Ellie, you're back!"

"Yes," she said, stretching, "He almost broke it."

Two sets of hands flew to cover ears, while Casey turned right around. "TMI!" yelled Chuck.

"Tell me more," urged Carina, who could always stand to hear more.

Ellie obliged. "I'm pregnant."

One set of hands flew to cover ears as two others dropped in shock. "You're what?"

"Birds and bees, little brother, I know you know, since I had to tell you."

"You also taught him Hawaii was a state, and look how well that turned out."

"Sarah!" said Chuck, turning red. She'd milk that one for years. He gave his sister a gentle hug, not sure how hard to squeeze. "How long are you back for, sis?"

Ellie sat gratefully in her chair. "For good, Chuck. The boxes are scanned and repacked, the basement locked up tight. Everything important is digitized and safe. We left the equipment where it was, a lot of junk, if you ask me."

"I'll have to go out there soon and look it over."

"Whatever." Ellie didn't care at all. "Mom?"

"Tracked her to Russia, and her trail went cold. And in Russia, 'going cold' means something!" He shuddered.

"So she's dead?"

"We don't know," said Sarah. "This was all I could find in our deep databases." She passed over a sheet of paper, heavily blacked out. "Look at the bottom."

Ellie looked. "Captured?" She looked up. "She could still be alive?"

Chuck didn't want to lie to her, so he didn't say anything. Just nodded. Maybe. Ellie stood and pressed the paper against his chest. He raised a hand to hold it and she walked away. He gave Sarah a look that she returned in kind. His mission was over. So was hers. _Their_ mission had just begun.

* * *

She sat at the table, just one woman, surrounded by three tall men, poised to intimidate.

"You brought me here why?" She didn't sound intimidated.

"Someone is looking for you." He didn't sound threatening.

"Who?"

"A 'Mr. Charles.'"

If she recognized the name she didn't show it. She looked around, taking in the bare room and the dead hulk of a building it was in. Under. "Have you told Volkoff?"

"No."

She smiled. Of course not. No one would. Suddenly she stood, slamming the chair into the belly of the man behind her. She turned, drew his gun, and shot all three men in the room without turning completely around. She put on her coat and went to leave.

Marco still lived. "Please. I have…family."

She shrugged. "So do I."

"I had orders."

"You had _my _ orders, not to harm or interfere with this man in any way."

"Why?" he whispered.

She raised her pistol, not a cruel woman. Right before she fired, she said, "Nobody kills him but me."

* * *

**A/N2** So what do you think? Too dark? I'm trying to keep the story consistent, coherent, and logical, so Mary Bartowski may not be the woman she was in canon. I'll try to keep her in character as much as I can. My great thanks to the folks on the Chuck This Blog, who are even now discussing this season and giving me all sorts of ideas. Thanks also to those of you who've read and commented so far.


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